This is a rare moment in my performing career. Jane, Mary, Lydia and Charlie are all staring at me. I do not break character like that during a show, and they don’t either, but these are not usual times.

Thanks to some rando dropping a record-breaking tip, all our futures are suddenly much brighter. Damn right I’m excited, and I don’t think it’s wrong to show it.

I also want to know who Mr. Moneybags is, but that may not be an option. Whoever it is probably wants the show to continue, anyway, so I take a quiet breath and prepare to charge right back into it

I turn my face off-camera to give my colleagues a quick look. We’re all phenomenal at reading each other’s expressions by now. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that we’re all masters of telepathy.

This time, my quick expression says This is fuckin’ awesome, but we deserve it for being the best at what we do—now we need to keep being the best and REALLY get into this show.

Yep, they understood every word, and I can see every one of my amazing co-performers light up us we all get back into show-mode. It’s not like we have a script, so it is up to somebody to initiate whatever’s going to happen next. I feel a morsel of relief as Jane starts talking:

“I think the heat must be getting to Lizzie, but we do keep it hot in here.” Okay, Jane is still in telethon-mode, and she’s taking a little shot at me. That’s fine.

Mary gives Jane a comically puzzled look. Shit, this is going to be a roast, isn’t it?

“What was that, Jane? I think Lizzie broke my eardrums.” Yeah, it’s a roast, alright.

“I think she also broke all the glasses downstairs.” Now Charlie’s getting in on the action.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—what-fucking-ever. We promised a show, now let’s…”

Another first for today: the show is interrupted by somebody throwing open the door. There are good reasons for this never to happen. Anyone living at Bennet Mansion knows the schedule very well, and also knows not to interrupt a live broadcast. The mansion only gets visitors rarely, and those visits are well-planned.

Nobody would be able to find the mansion without having been here before. And, even if somebody knew where the mansion is, how would they be able to make their way to the specific room were a live was happening? These spaces are soundproofed, the mansion is big, and it’s not like we give…tours.

Yeah, I know who this is. My costars have only the ghosts of alarm in their faces as turn their heads to the door, but I don’t even bother looking. I can hear those goddamn loafers, the ones I’ve only see him wear at work, clicking into the show space.

“We’re doing a show, Mr. Big.”

None of us mansion-dwelling cam stars are quiet or shy as a rule. We are each outspoken in our own distinct way. If Charlie, Lydia or Jane says something, you know it’s them. Usually. However, this time my four costars start muttering, whispering, gossiping to each other as Darcy just clods into the room like an oaf.

They’re trying to figure out what in the world is going on, but I just don’t care.

“This is not part of the show, folks,” Mary announces straight into the camera. “I don’t think.”

“Lizzie, it was me. You asked who it was, and I’m here to tell you that it was me.”

I finally take a look at Darcy. He’s standing in that same spot he chose during our tour—man, that feels like centuries ago now. This time, instead of confident and aloof, he looks pleading, almost desperate. Almost cartoonish.

Part of me wants to laugh, part of me feels bad, and a small part of me wants to run over and just wrap my arms around him. I’ll settle for asking him a question.

“What difference does it make, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy carefully steps forward. Just a single step.

“It makes no difference to me. The money, that is. I could just keep spending it, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I look over to where Jane and Lydia are gawking at this weird exchange.

“Hey, I like this guy.” Jane is smiling, she seems sincerely thrilled, and amused.

Charlie jumps in front of her and waves at Darcy.

“Hello? Mr. Billionaire? Don’t worry if Lizzie’s being a grouch. We’ll be more than happy to let you keep spending money. Why, now that you’re here in person, we can also take cash, debit cards, a cashier’s check…”

“Darcy,” I interrupt, needing to get this over with, “you can’t just come here anytime you want and wander into a show. This is live, as you know. We want nothing to do with your abomination of a site.”

Darcy very gingerly takes another step forward.

“It is an abomination, Lizzie. It’s the worst idea…look, I just want to be with you. I realize now that’s not the way, though. I want to keep Bennet Babes running, and I want it run exactly the way you want it. I want to keep your ideas, Lizzie, and I want more of them—and I want you.”

It’s a little maudlin, and my fellow Bennet Babes are giggling a bit, but…I am getting a lump in my throat. I can’t let myself get carried away by this, not on camera. Besides, I don’t know what little loophole that Darcy has in mind this time, and I’m not sure I want to know.

“There’s no way around this, Darcy. Not with your own rules. You know it. You just can’t have everything.”

Jane, Lydia, Mary and Charlie all make an “ooooooooh” sound like they’re watching a rap battle and I just dropped the sickest dis.

“She’s got you there, Mr. D.” Jane has the perfect smile on her face as she says this. Darcy turns his head to her.

“I don’t know that she does, Jane.”

Darcy turns back to me. I feel the electricity of his gaze for the first time in quite a while. And now he’s…holy shit.

Darcy is kneeling on one knee.

Holy shit, now he’s reaching into the pocket of his sports coat.

The room is dead silent, except my sniffling.

You guessed it: I’m finally letting myself just cry like crazy, giving no fucks about the camera. I keep having to wipe away my tears to see Darcy present the little jewelry box and open it.

Holy shit, definitely a huge-ass diamond. The diamond is reflecting one of the off-camera stage light, projecting a series of fractured rainbows onto the walls and ceiling.

I’m jarred out of the moment by a quick quip from Lydia: “If Hawk won the bidding war, the diamond on my ring would be twice the size of that.”

I have to look over at my coworkers, my best friends in the world. At least for a second. Yep, they’re all teary-eyed themselves. Even Lydia.

Darcy’s eyes are there to catch mine as I look back at him.

“Lizzie, you know there are rules which I follow with no exceptions under any circumstances. Until now.

“Lizzie, I’m in love with you. That’s the circumstance. I’m in love with you, and I am breaking one of the cornerstone rules of business. But forget business, I want to share my life with you. This is a new feeling for me, Lizzie. Do you feel the same way?”

“Darcy, yes. Yes. I do feel the same way. I love you so much that it hurts. I want to spend my life with you. Yes! But…you’re even willing to break your rule about getting involved with anyone at the same company?”

Darcy stays on his knee, his gaze still fixed on me.

“This isn’t dating, or sleeping with, or something as vague and casual as ‘getting involved.’ I want to marry you, and that transcends everything. So, let’s just make it official: will you marry me?”

I finally take the jewelry box from Darcy’s hand, and he stands up as I do. He takes my left hand, softly, takes the ring from the box and slips it onto my finger. It fits perfectly, and the rainbows are still dancing around the walls.

“Yes,” I whisper, “forget those rules.”

The electric feeling encompasses both of us as lock into an embrace and a kiss that I never want to end. We’re still kissing as I hear my fellow cam girls shut down the camera and exit into the corridor.

And oh my God, this shit’s about to get good. Because I’ve had just about every kind of sex you can imagine at this point. But engagement sex? That one’s brand new.